


This is My Letter

by Ardently_Admired



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Letters, M/M, Reichenbach, Reichenbach Feels, Sherlock's Letter, suicide note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 09:40:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10383813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardently_Admired/pseuds/Ardently_Admired
Summary: "John...this is my letter. That's what most people do, isn't it? Leave a letter?"Or, Sherlock leaves a letter for John to find.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note: that chunk of quotation at the end there is the lyrics to Andrew Lloyd Weber's 'Think of Me', from the Phantom of the Opera. Thanks for reading!

Dear John,

This is my letter. 

It's what most people do, isn't it? Leave a letter? Well, here's mine.

I want you to know, first and foremost, that by the time you read this, I will be dead. Quite dead. There is nothing you can do, nothing anyone can do. It's my time, in a sense, and I must make my peace with it. Please don't think it's your fault. 

God, please don't think it's your fault; it's not, I promise you. It's anything but your fault. You are not the reason for this. The reason for this is mine, and mine alone. 

John, do you remember that rainy morning, when we went over to High Street, and I bumped into this young mother because there were so many people? She dropped her coffee, looked at me like I had just, kicked a kitten. I felt terrible, John, just awful. And you were laughing at how distraught I was (we never did have that talk about laughing at people's pain...), and you kissed me, gently, in the rain, with throngs of people milling about, and told me it wasn't my fault. 

I hadn't been kissed much before that, not by others, and certainly not by you. I remember everything about that moment- that god-awful black and and white striped cardigan you wear all the time, how your hair, grey, but with those small dustings of blonde, was wet and dripping onto your nose. 

But your eyes, John. Your eyes are beautiful, they always have been; I've always thought they were. The way you looked that day, blinking rain out of your eyelashes...I thought you very desirable, just then. 

I never felt anything quite like what I feel for you, John. I'm not even really sure exactly what it is I feel for you. But I do know I enjoy it, very much. And I will miss it, when I am gone. 

I will miss you, when I am gone. 

I only wish I had time, time to say what I would have said. Thank you, mostly, for doing everything you've done. 

Thank you, John, for loving me.   
No ones ever done that for me before. 

And I guess I meant to say it, I really did. I just couldn't quite put it into the right words, and now, when I've finally got them, I've got to leave you. 

I think I loved you too, John.   
I truly did, and do, and probably will continue to do so. 

"Think of me; think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye. Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try. And if you find that once again you long to have your heart back, and be freed; if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me."

-Sherlock Holmes  
221B Baker Street


End file.
